Trees: Trees? TREES!
by Lothlorienx
Summary: Spring has come to Night Vale. The trees rise up in revolt.


Look up at the sky, at the water, at the trees and their long branches. Their branches extending and dividing endlessly to look like horrid, spindly fingers, growing, becoming sharper and longer. They reach out towards you as your eyes linger on their bark and leaf body, unable to notice as the branches wrap around your neck. Look at them!

Welcome to Night Vale.

Spring has come to Night Vale, which means botany all across our little desert town is flowering! Bushes all along the sides of the road, in gardens, along and inside office buildings, and sprouting out of peoples' ears alike are flowering with fresh green leaves, beautiful scented flowers, ripe fruits, thick vermillion blood, and locusts. Literally all of the trees are regrowing all of their leaves in celebration, small at first, but soon they grown out into large, green leaves with healthy fruits and lightly perfumed flowers.

Literally ever single one in town.

A bit too soon, I'm afraid. Already have the trees bloomed, ripened to zenith, and now they are starting to shed their leaves in preparation for a winter that is not here yet. Flowers that had bloomed only minutes ago are now withering and drying up, and leaves are shriveling into brown husks of what they once were and falling down to the craggy roots of brittle and cold trees, only to be crushed into tiny little mulch-like pieces that are swallowed up by the sand and soil of the earth. And, just as soon as they shed their leaves, new ones are now growing in their place. The trees are blooming and dying and blooming and dying all day today!

A sure sign of spring.

This weekend, as a tribute to the beginning of spring, Big Rico's Pizza is holding a two-for-one sale! Buy any pizza and get a free existential crisis...along with some free lemonade complete with endless free refills. This offer lasts for the end of time.

Also in celebration of spring, the City Council has brought out very special equinox bloodstones. Ones that we haven't seen since autumn, which was when the last equinox was...I think. Memories are easily manipulated and forgotten things, after all. These new bloodstones look like the same ones used last time, except they are completely devoid of all blood stains. Perhaps they just cleaned them? I don't know.

Upon the unveiling of the equinox bloodstones, the City Council all screeched as one, heads tilted upwards towards the sky as their wailing poured from their tormented throats, and when that was done, they began dancing to a tune that only they could hear.

'It looks like they're having a really good time,' eyewitnesses say. 'The song looks joyful, yet wild in nature. It looks so carefree and fun. It has made these normally so stoic and business-oriented beings let loose on the city streets, arms flailing and feet kicking and hair tossing and eyes closed. Not even their screeches sound too bad.'

'I wish i could dance like that,' other eyewitnesses said. 'They really have some nice moves.'

Listeners, I would now like to let you in on something from my personal life. Earlier today, a woman in a fur coat came to the station. I was about to ask her what the fur coat was all about, since after all we do live in a desert and it is incredibly hot here. Before we could say anything, she declared that she had an important announcement to make.

The announcement is: 'Humans should not wear fur. It is an abomination, a crime against nature, a sin for which no god, smiling or frowning or mouthless, could or should or would forgive. Fur wearers must be struck down upon the sandy ground with bolts of lightnings and cries of repent.' She then went on to say, 'Humans should not wear fur at all, but instead opt for lighter fabric such as muslin or chiffon. Even a tightly knit cotton would be better.'

Before any of us could point out how hypocritical it was of her to tell people to not wear fur when she herself was wearing fur, she morphed into a sly little fox and trotted off.

'Of course!' we all said to ourselves then. 'It wasn't a fur coat, it was just a fox that looked like a woman in a fur coat! How could we have made such a foolish mistake!?'

John Peters-you know, the farmer?-said that the beginning of spring has given his crop of imaginary corn special new powers. Now, not only does his imaginary corn give you a nutritious staple in your diet and is a good replacement for wheat and wheat-by product, but it now has the ability to: cure bad breath, moisten your skin, soften your hair, finish your math homework, braid your hair, cure your acne, provide moral support, and give you laser vision.

With all the new benefits of the imaginary corn, supermarkets all across town are now starting to stock up on the corn. Just yesterday the supermarkets were all filled with orange juice, and before that razor blades, and before that rose bushes, but now its all imaginary corn.

Get yours today!

Also, an important message to anyone named Katherine, Dante, and/or Isabella: there is a spider standing on your shoulder. It's not dangerous-in fact, it's actually kind of friendly. And lonely. That's why it's sitting on your shoulder; it just wants some company, and for you to acknowledge that it's there.

Thank you, says the spider.

Listeners, we like to think of the past as something long gone and forgotten, like the people who lived on this earth are gone from the world. Well they're not; they're right beneath your feet. They're under your feet and deep in the earth in the forms of bone and decay. Hisorical figures...random people who lived lives before yours and are probably forever forgotten, all beneath you as fossils as you go about your daily life. You don't know them, and they don't really knwo you. Not completely. :ook back at the past, think of someone who was alive five hundred years...then you down at your feet and realize they are underneath you. Just right there.

Grand pyramids, grand walls, impressive mounds, sturdy temples, intricately carved stones all stand as monuments to their greatness, and then as you take in the sight, see beyond the stone and through the expanse of time, and realize that they are right there. They have always been right there. Right there. Underneath your feet. hollow eye sockets watching you through the bedrock and gravel and soil.

This has been children's science corner.

And now a message from our sponsors:

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Listeners, sometimes I can only sit here and wonder while I look over at the shelf by the window. On it sits aloe vera and tiny cactuses. Green roots and stems and leaves, and purple flowers, sometimes with white petals and sometimes not...depends on the time of day... Rich black soil filled to the brim with nutrients so that those tiny seeds planted long ago can finally break free of their hard shell encasing and start reaching their roots down into the soil and lift their budding heads. Heads that seek warmth of the sun and water from merciful, pitiful rainclouds that could just as easily destroy them or drown them instead of provide for them.

That gets me to thinking of life as a whole. How we, the people of Night Vale, are constantly at nature's mercy. No matter what the government or the Sheriff's Secret Police try to do, nature still won't listen. We are forever at nature's mercy; at any moment we could be struck down by lightning, or drowned in a falling raincloud, or choked by the winds that provide us with relief from the scorching sun. Just think listeners, anything we love could so easily kill us.

What's stopping that charming little houseplant from bursting free of its pot and entwining its vines around your throat while you sleep? What's to stop the trees from lifting their roots from the ground and trampling us to death in attempt to control the overwhelming human population that just does't seem to care about their demise? What's stopping the singing cactuses in the desert from growing their needles so long and sharp that they could reach us here in the safety of our little town? Who's even to say our town is safe? Not I, certainly.

In fact, I just received this notification from the Sheriff's Secret Police that states that I cannot say that our town is safe, and I should never again even hint at the possibility that we have a safe town.

I have also received word that apparently the trees are lifting their roots from the ground and have apparently trampled people to death. I don't know what their motives are, but then again I don't understand how trees think. According to this report, the trees have killed a total of five people so far. Steve Carlsberg is not one of them. Listeners this is bad news indeed; if the trees rise up in revolt against us, then we don't stand a chance. Not even the Sheriff's Secret Police nor the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency stand any chance against them.

What?

Oh, I'm not supposed to say that either.

What I am supposed to say is: the Sheriff's Secret Police advise everyone to stay safe inside while the trees rise up in revolt. If possible, just lay low for a little while, preferably in a basement or hiding under a blanket, and try not to breath too loud. If we all do this for long enough, eventually the trees will think that all of humanity has perished and go back to their soil, stretch their roots out, and leave us alone for at least a few more years. When they give word, listeners, I will let you know that it is okay to come out of hiding.

There is also a warning to be suspicious of any plants that might be in your house, as they might be conspiring with the trees. If you can, put them outside for the time being, and give them a little bit of water. The faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home hasn't been watering them lately, but she does say that they look a little thirsty.

Also, Big Rico's Pizza says they would like to retract their springtime offer. The free existential crisis will only last until next week; from then on it costs $1.99 to have an existential crisis. There is still free lemonade and free refills, though. This won't last till the end of time, however, because Big Rico's says that time is nothing but an illusion, and the illusion will outlast us all.

Also, they are replacing their pineapple pizza with strawberry pizza.

I'll get back to the trees in a little bit. It's time now for THE WEATHER.

[a slow tune builds]

[a violin in the distance, sounding like the only thing in a cave of emptiness]

[a voice, low and steady]

[a voice, gradually building]

[a voice, breaking into thunderous song]

[a voice, backed by the sound of music, soaring and falling with each pitch of sound]

[drums in the background]

[drums building and then overpowering as the voice fades out]

[a steady, catching tune plays]

[it plays on and on]

[the voice finally rejoins the song, violins and drums and faint guitars and a ghostly flute]

[the song fades]

[the weather has been reported]

Bad news, listeners.

The trees' death toll is now up to twelve people. Steve Carlsberg is still not one of them. The names of the deceased have not been released, although one of our radio interns-whom we sent down to get a live interview with one of the rampaging trees-was among them. His name was Jonathan.

To the family of radio intern Jonathan, I am truly sorry. He died bravely, nobly, and curiously, Just as he lived. We will all miss him, and we mourn with you.

Before Jonathan officially died...or unofficially, the Secret Police haven't told anyone whether or not it was legal for him to die just yet...he sent this text to us of a tree speaking to him. It's here on my phone.

It says:

The trees say that pollution is strong in the air. The trees say that humans are a menace upon the earth. The trees say that their roots reach to the very core of our earth and they have seen the end of humankind as we know it. They will not rest until humans have been eradicated and they can take back their world and return it to the former splendor that it once was, before the trees fell to our relentless greed, consumerism, and housing developments.

The last thing they said before killing intern Jonathan...oh, I'm sorry, supposedly killing intern Jonathan...is that the trees will conquer the world. They shall grow so tall as to reach towards the void of the sky and block the stars with their thick canopies, dwarfing every tower that has ever attempted to be built by our weak and feeble minds. 'The era of the desert is at an end!' they screeched. 'The era of the desert is at an end!'

[a sigh]

[a truly exasperated sigh; you can hear the tiredness reach you from all the way over the air waves]

Listeners, while we wait out the uprising of the trees, I don't really know what to do. The Secret Police have advised me to stay inside, and that's what I'm doing. But I always stay inside. I'm a radio host, and I host the radio from inside the building. I hardly ever get out.

I'm starting to think...maybe it's time for a change. Maybe it's time for a more adventurous Cecil Palmer! One who gets outdoors more, and stops and smells the roses and looks at the clouds and listens to birdsong.

Well, not right now though.

After all, the trees are killing people right now.

But when they're done and they've either gone back to their statutory state...or have killed me and everyone I know and love...I'll definitely get out more. I'll go and look at the clouds, I'll smell the roses, I'll listen to the birdsong. I'll feel the worms beneath my toes and watch the snakes mating from up close instead of afar. I'll become one of those nature people. You know, the kind who can look at a leaf and immediately know what kind of tree it is.

So far, the only tree I know is the Great Blood Weeping Tree that demands the occasional sacrifice. It's leaves are quite easy to identify, what with their sharp edges like saw teeth and their purple center having a screaming face right in the center. But I want to know more; oak, spruce, demigod, pine, cactus, imaginary, imaginary cactus, and all those others.

Perhaps I can ask Carlos.

He's pretty good as science; why shouldn't he be good as tree identification?

Carlos, if you're listening, send me a text. Let me know you're still alive and everything, and if you are good at pointing out which trees are which. I really want to know!

[silence as Cecil waits]

[his patience is wearing thin]

[he nervously twiddles his thumbs]

[thoughts collide in his mind]

[he starts to think the worst]

Oh! Carlos! Sweet, lovely, beautiful, perfect Carlos! What has happened to you?! Where are you?! Why aren't you responding?! I can only think the worst as I am left with uncertainty and the endless horror of my own imagination. Have the trees gotten you?! Have they flayed you alive?!

I hope not!

If they have, I will personally lead a rebellion against them! I will take the bloodstones and the swords, and cultivate the anger of the people, and we shall form together in attempt to...

[a slight ring and a buzz of vibration]

Oh...whew...okay. He says he's fine.

Beautiful Carlos, unharmed in his little laboratory. And more good news, listeners!

Listeners, the rampage of the trees is at an end. Today, just under a minute ago, eyewitnesses say they say Tamika Flynn outside standing on the carcasses of the bloodthirsty trees. No one saw how she was able to bring an end to the trees' murderous streak, but they do say that she was seen with a chainsaw in one hand and a rotten apple thick with tree sap and covered in mottled leaves in the other hand.

Eyewitnesses also say that she stood atop the logs of the fallen and screamed for any tree and accompanying plant to go back into the soil from which it was grown and stay there! She held up the rotten apple to prove her point, the tree sap and leaves falling into her hair and on the chainsaw.

'Go back, back to your roots! I demand it! back, you trees, back!' she said, and that was the end of that.

The trees are no longer killing people, but the Sheriff's Secret Police has still advised me to advise you that trees are still dangerous. Even if all they do is collect energy and nutrients and give it back to us in the form of clean air, they are still deadly beyond any doubt. If you fall asleep under a tree, make sure that you wake up within the next hour or so, or else you will become part of the soil that the tree feeds upon.

It is safe to come out now, and for you to bring your plants back inside. You still need to water them, though, and the faceless old woman is not going to do it for you.

And with that, there is no more news. There is nothing. Nothing but the abstract markings of these words upon a monitor glowing as your eyes scan these symbols and make sense of them and paint a picture in your head. It's accompanied by my voice...or perhaps your voice...or the voice of someone else. I don't really know; only you can know that, and truth be told, I don't think you even know that.

You are not even my listeners right now, but my readers.

You are left only with the end of your scrolling. You are left with your memories of the journey you have just went on. You are left with yourself and all the time in the world. Do you like yourself? I have to ask. Now that you are with yourself, as this story ends, you have to come to that question eventually. Do you like yourself?

Well, you should.

You're the best person you've ever know. 'But wait,' you say. 'There are people better than me. There are people nicer than me. There are people I look up to and aspire to be.'

Yes, that may be true, but you haven't swam through their deepest and darkest thoughts. You don't have their repressed memories. You haven't seen their rotten and vulgar side. You've only seen the image they present to the world, not the face they've hid forever since the day of their birth. You don't know what that is like, and just for the sake of argument, let's say that it is worse than yours.

So, in the end, you're the nicest person you know, because you only truly know how nice you are.

If that doesn't make sense now, it will in the long run.

Perhaps when you are in bed, tired, drifting off to sleep while your mind wanders through old memories or recent thoughts. Then it will come to you, and you'll almost be jolted awake by the realization. Almost. And then you will sleep, and wake up to a new day.

And I leave you with that.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

* * *

Today's Proverb: Think of something truly ugly. Why is it ugly?


End file.
